


and in pieces we go

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Series: and comes the storm [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Comfort, Deleted Scenes, Developing Relationship, Drabble Sequence, Falling In Love, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, First Love, M/M, One Shot, Romantic Fluff, Stormblood Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Between the Naadam and the assault on Doma Castle, the scenes inbetween of a developing relationship between Magnai and the Warrior of Light, Alwyn 'Wyn' Storme.





	and in pieces we go

Magnai, as Wyn comes to discover quickly, tends to hover. It goes hand-in-hand with his possessive nature.

In the aftermath of the Naadam and the attempt on Wyn’s life by imperial forces, he spends his time divided between lurking behind Wyn looking impressive and intimidating; and barking orders at his own men. Of course, Wyn insists on seeing to all those he can – to the point where he starts to feel more than a little light-headed.

“Enough, Wyn.”

Magnai’s hands are warm and firm on his shoulders, jerking him out of yet another healing trance. Opening his mouth to argue, Wyn’s stopped when he sways in place. Alright, he might have overdone it just a little, but he can do this.

“Do not argue with me,” Magnai orders. “Or I will throw you over my shoulder.”

Wyn’s mouth clicks closed and he nods. Even being as tired as he is, Wyn knows better than to argue with his – what? Soulmate? Lover? Husband? He’s not entirely sure what to call Magnai.

His legs are swept out from under him and Wyn squeaks, making a grab for Magnai’s shoulders at the sudden change in position. He isn’t off the ground for long, soon he finds himself laid down on an uncrushed stretch of ground, a blanket of some kind tossed over it.

Brushing hair from Wyn’s face, Magnai kisses his forehead, “Rest here. You will need your strength.”

“But…”

Magnai’s eyebrows go up, “ _No_. I will not have you collapsing now.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you,” Wyn says, reaching up to touch Magnai’s cheek. “I’ll rest now, promise.”

He catches Wyn’s hand in his and kisses the palm of it, “Many will survive who otherwise might have died, thanks to you. Rest knowing that you have done all you can.”

Wyn nods, eyes already drifting closed.

 

 

 

Waking hours later, Wyn finds himself resting on a palette that he can’t remember how he got to. Around him are the familiar trappings of the Mol encampment, which only makes his confusion grow. How did he get back here?

Cirina leans into his field of vision, “Ah, you’re awake. Thank the gods. You slept so soundly…”

“I might have… overexerted myself,” Wyn admits. He pushes himself up on shaking, aching arms. “How did I get back here?”

“Well... Magnai brought you back. On his yol. He was quite adamant about seeing you to safety.” Cirina flushes, clasping her hands together, “I know that it’s not my place, but… did something happen between the two of you?”

“I… suppose you could call us soulmates. Is he here now?”

She shakes her head, “No, he had to return to the Dawn Throne with the rest of the Oronir. But not before he made us promise that we would take the best care of you. I never thought I would see him worry so, but… he genuinely cares for you.”

_Of course he does, he believes I’m his Nhaama._

“I know,” Wyn says, smiling softly. “I feel the same.”

“Yet, you still fought for us. And against him.”

“I gave you my word that I would. And I always intended to keep it. Magnai knows that.”

“All the same, I hope that it does not cause any… issues with your relationship.”

Even though his mind is fuzzy and recollections a little blank, Wyn has distinct memories of Magnai laying him down to rest. He shakes his head, “It’s alright. I doubt you have anything to worry about. We… talked about it before the Naadam.”

“Then everything will be as it should,” Cirina says, nodding her head. “I’ll fetch the others, they were worried for you.”

“Thank you.”

Lyse bursts through first, “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen Magnai so… worried. I mean, I don’t really know him, but that was scary. You definitely shouldn’t do whatever it was you did again.”

“I’m well aware,” Wyn deadpans, trying to make himself comfortable. “Though… I can’t promise that it will not happen again.”

“I heard him speaking with Hien,” Lyse continues, voice dropping conspiratorially. “He said that he was coming with us – with you. Is that… is that true?”

_“Then I am at your command. Wherever you may go, I will follow.”_

“He said something to that effect, yes.”

_“For in you, I see Nhaama.”_

He hadn’t thought about the ‘after’, being too caught up in the ‘now’. At the time that Magnai had made that promise, winning the Naadam had still been a distant thought; something that _needed_ to be done, but that might not be possible. Wyn had been confident then that they would win – they _had_ too – but even then, he had thought little of Magnai’s words.

And now, everything is shockingly real. He hadn’t really thought that Magnai would give everything up so easily, all founded on the simple and strongly held belief that he had found his destined soulmate in _Wyn_ of all people.

“I hadn’t expected he would, I mean… the Steppe is his home, isn’t it? And he’s the khan of the Oronir too! He can’t just give that all up, can he?”

“I don’t know. But… I guess he is, if he’s going to be coming with us.”

Wyn wishes desperately that Magnai was here, to explain and clarify everything. But he isn’t. And, somehow, that leaves Wyn aching for a reason he’s a little afraid to identify.

 

 

 

Wyn isn’t sure what he expected when they come to the Dawn Throne for the last time. There is no welcome party or anything like that, but there’s a weight to the looks they receive that’s heavy and somber. The Oronir turn to whisper among themselves as they pass, making their way to the large room where they were first brought all those days ago.

To Wyn, it feels like much more time has passed. It seems like a lifetime ago that they were brought to the Dawn Throne as little more than prisoners. Now, here they are – the heroes of the hour – coming to take their khan away with them.

Perhaps it’s resentment that Wyn is seeing behind their eyes. Magnai must be well-loved by his people and it stings deep within to be taking him away from a home and people he so clearly loves in return. How can he ask him to give all of this up?

The large room of the Dawn Throne is as intimidating as it always is, but Wyn flushes at the memory of his last visit.

Magnai is alone in the large room, lounging almost lazily in that large throne of his. Though he doesn’t straighten at their approach, his eyes soften as they land on Wyn.

“So, my Nhaama returns to me…” His gaze shifts over the others, eyes narrowing, he continues, tone harder, “Speak your purpose in coming.”

Wyn’s attention is captured by the empty space next to them, one that he distinctly remembers being filled by a particularly unfriendly Oronir.

His distraction does not go unnoticed.

“Baatu will not be joining us,” Magnai says, voice softer than usual. “He was wounded in the Naadam. His hurts were grave and he requires rest. But he will walk again in time.”

Opening his mouth, Wyn’s about to offer his aide, but is interrupted, “Nay, Wyn. There is little that you can do for him now. Already, he lives because of you.”

There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it vanishes quickly as he turns to the others, gaze focusing on Cirina, who winces at it, “I say again, why have you come? To bid us surrender the Dawn Throne to the Mol?”

“N-nay,” Cirina says, shaking her head. “The Mol are beholden to the will of the gods, and they would not have us reside here. The Oronir and the Buduga may remain.”

“We are for Yanxia, and wished to speak of your part in the coming war,” Hien adds.

Magnai nods, “Ah, the Domans and the ironmen. I remember our pact. Sound the call and the Oronir will answer.”

“Full glad am I to hear it. We have preparations to attend to, but will send for you soon.”

“You need but tell me, and I will send it, for I mean to accompany you, Doman.” He inclines his head towards Wyn, “For my Nhaama walks with you, and so I would as well.”

“So you do mean to come with us.”

“Where my Nhaama goes, so do I. It is that simple.”

“We will be glad to have you with us,” Wyn says, biting his lip. _I will be happy to be at your side_. “But…”

“There will be no excuses,” Magnai says bluntly. “As I told you, where you go, I go. I have made the necessary arrangements and preparations for my absence. When you are prepared to take leave of the Steppe, I shall follow.”

He stands and hoists his giant axe, securing it to the harness at his back, then crosses his arms – as though daring them to question his latest proclamation. In two great strides, he descends from the platform of the throne, and takes Wyn’s hand firmly in one of his much larger ones.

Wyn squeezes it, leans slightly into Magnai’s space, “Well, we will try not to keep you away long.”

Tugging him in closer, Magnai shakes his head, “Nay, do not worry so. I knew that this day might come. Baatu will lead in my absence once he has recovered, but I will always be the khan.”

“Then… I suppose we should be off,” Lyse says, hesitantly. “We need to make for Yanxia before dark.”

“Lead the way, Doman.”

 

 

 

The meeting with Sadu goes about as well as to be expected.

“If I didn’t know better,” Wyn says quietly. “Then I might be jealous.”

“Why?” Magnai’s head snaps around, familiar deep frown in place.

Wyn smiles, leans into him, “Oh, how you and Sadu go on… might make one think…”

“ _No_.”

“Oh, but–”

“If you suggest that again, I will take you over my knee.”

Wyn smirks, “Duly noted.”

“Good.”

“But who is to say that I wouldn’t enjoy it?” Wyn continues, peeking at Magnai from beneath his eyelashes.

Magnai nearly stumbles, “You – you think you might enjoy being taken over my knee like a child?”

“You never know until you try.”

 

 

 

The difficult part is introducing Magnai to Alisae and Alphinaud.

“Oh, and this is…?”

Alphinaud is, as always, polite and waits for Magnai to introduce himself. Before he can, though, Wyn interrupts with, “This is Magnai. He’s, ah, the khan of the Oronir tribe – their leader.”

“A pleasure to have you with us, but shouldn’t–”

“Alphinaud, it’s quite obvious that they are intimate. Congratulations, Wyn,” Alisae says, rolling her eyes. “You will have to tell the full story later, when we have more time.”

“I – what?”

Comfortingly, Alisae pats her brother on his shoulder, “Oh, don’t worry, brother. And I’m certain that you could give our dear friend here some advice, what with your experiences with the fairer sex.”

“Alisae!”

Wyn bites his lip and chokes back a laugh, “I think I have done just fine so far. Right, Magnai?”

Magnai watches the interplay between the siblings with relative disinterest, but his eyes are soft as he turns to Wyn. He leans down and presses his forehead to Wyn’s, “You are magnificent.”

“So are you.”

“Ahem, if I may interrupt?” There’s still a touch of pink high in Alphinaud’s cheeks, “We still have to review the plan for tomorrow’s assault on Doma Castle.”

 

 

 

Unable to sleep, Wyn wanders through the House of the Fierce. There’s a small tremble in his hands, which he hides by clasping them together. In his wanderings, he finds that he isn’t the only one unable to sleep.

Grouped around a small table, clearly well into their drinks, are Gosetsu, Hien, and, much to Wyn’s surprise, Magnai. Both Magnai and Gosetsu have a bottle of what Wyn has come to learn is called sake in front of them, while Hien sips from a cup.

When he spots him lurking in the doorway, Magnai wordlessly extends his hand to Wyn.

Wyn crosses the room to take it, and is instantly pulled down into Magnai’s lap. His cheeks heat at the contact, but neither Hien or Gosetsu pay him much mind. Rather, Hien pauses to poor another glass of sake, which he pushes in front of Wyn.

“Come to join us, have you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Wyn says simply.

A large, warm hand rubs his back in soothing circles and Wyn relaxes into the touch. Magnai says very little the entire evening, even as Gosetsu recounts his greatest shames. Rather, he sits where he is, gently stroking Wyn’s back, while his other hand scarcely leaves its place on Wyn’s thigh.

Listening to the soft ebb and flow of conversation is comforting, as is the heat of the sake as it goes down his throat. Though he doesn’t get how Magnai can drink it straight from the bottle in great gulps, but he says nothing on the matter.

Rather, he enjoys letting his head drop to Magnai’s shoulder and listening as his companions talk around him. Slowly, his eyes drop closed and he, eventually, drifts to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Words:** 2220 words
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can find me [over on tumblr](http://graysonflynn.tumblr.com) where I am a giant dork who has absolutely no idea where the hell she is actually going with this series, but I started a ship so now I'm stuck with it. I hope everyone is prepared for the incoming trash AUs that I've got planned because, shockers of shockers, _I am AU trash_.
> 
> If you've got a suggestion or a prompt, you can leave it over in my ask box and... I'll get around to it as soon as I do. Thank you for all the lovely comments you've left me on my previous work for this ship; I'm grateful to know that I'm not alone in shipping it. OTL


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